"So I was just a fucking bet?"
"Well, I was just a dare, right?"
"Don't you fucking dare to compare some innocent
flirting with taking someone's virginity."
• --- •
Jasmine Leclerc gets dared to flirt with current WDC Max Verstappen, while Max in...
♬ ❝ I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see? I lose control when you're not next to me, mm-hm ❞ ♬
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»»———— ★ ————«« 7 days since summer break started Sunday - Monaco
I knew all of this mess was my fault. I realized that all too well when she was screaming at me with tears in her eyes. And I had cursed myself a million times for the words I had said.
And I had cursed myself a million more times for not knowing Jasmine had been a virgin. That made sense now, too. From the way she had tensed up when I touched her, and now she wanted to take things slowly. The doubt of undressing in front of me, the slight panic she got when my bodily reaction was to get hard with her on top of me.
And, maybe the most significant hints I had missed were the fact that she was in pain when we did finally sleep together or the doubts in her eyes when I had asked her to give me that blowjob.
I had been so selfish not to tell her about the bet. I had tons of time to tell her, yet I decided not to for reasons I couldn't even think of myself. The past couple of days were the hardest I had ever experienced since I let go of my Dad's madness whenever I lost a race.
She wasn't obligated to tell me she had been a virgin, but I wish she had.
All I wanted to do was talk to her. And it was the third day; I stood in front of her apartment complex, gathering the bravery to ring her doorbell.
Seeing Charles leave the building, looking like a lost and scolded puppy just a few minutes after entering it, clenched my heart, and the stories about her pushing away her family rose up in my memory.
And I was at fault for it.
But the photos the day after awakened a rage I never knew I had in me. Even if media training taught me not to believe everything the internet says, this time, it was different because I recognized the building Pierre was leaving, and I was absolutely sure that Pierre did not live in Monaco.
"So far, for only being friends, huh?" I had murmured against myself, balding my firsts.
I wanted to punch something, break something, to attempt to get the rage inside my body to leave. I had never been good with anger, nor had my Dad been good with it. And in moments like this, I realized I looked so much more like my Dad than I ever wanted to admit.
Yet, I had to be better than this.
I put on my running shoes and stepped outside of my apartment. Running was only an attempt to regain control of the turmoil inside me.
It was only 09:00 AM; I hadn't slept for a fourth day in a row, and at this point, it was only a matter of time before I would collapse from exhaustion.
